Secrets.

Jasper

I stand frozen in what feels like an alternate reality.

I need to know.

No matter how much it hurts.

The scene before me is dark, almost haunted.

Black surrounds me everywhere I turn.

I frantically look around, frightened as I search for the objective.

This has to be about her.

I know she’s hurting.

She’s hiding it from me, and I don’t know why.

A soft light flickers on. I follow the direction of the sound.

There she is.

Sitting on a light washed wooden stool, in the middle of this black abyss.

The light shines solely on her body.

A black bra and shorts are the only things covering her.

She sits with perfect posture, but her gaze is fixed on the ground.

It’s like she’s in a trance.

I look down, and realize I’m only in shorts.

But never mind that.

I race to her, overwhelmed with worry.

“Hey, Lish” I call, placing a hand on her shoulder from behind.

But to my surprise, she doesn’t react to my touch.

Her face is unnaturally still.

Curiosity and terror twist across my face.

What the hell is going on?

I remove my hand from her shoulder and take a few steps back.

I stare a her figure, analyzing.

She has a toned physique. Her back is slightly defined, and the line of her spine is pronounced.

I’m amazed by her beauty.

She often hides behind baggy clothing.

My girlfriend is incredibly humble.

I’ve gathered that she hides herself to make others comfortable.

I just don’t know why.

I pray this gives me all the answers I need.

Suddenly, ABC fridge magnets appear all over her back. Like the ones she once described from her childhood home.

The letters are scrambled, but I noticed a thin red outline beneath them.

I step closer.

I peel off the green letter “E”, revealing a small scar.

“Oh my gosh…. wha—“

I cover my mouth in disbelief, dropping the letter beside my bare feet.

“No… what happened to you?”

My voice cracks as sorrow floods my face.

There’s more where that came from.

Every letter I pull away reveals another scar.

Then another.

And another.

I’m overwhelmed by the sight.

Why is my girlfriend covered in scars?

Why isn’t she reacting to me?

Thoughts born from the same question swirl through my mind like a tornado.

But my eyes stay locked on her.

The red from the wounds contrast with her chocolate skin.

They shine with a dark streak of blood, never overflowing but pooling on the surface of the swollen skin.

They look reopened.

Like she healed and someone came to litter her skin of hurt she didn’t deserve.

I try to take deep breaths but a cry escapes me.

No, please God not her.

Why her?

I would bear all of this for her without a second thought.

“Elisha,”

My body forces a breath.

“Who hurt you?, please baby… tell me.”

I wrap my arms around her from behind, pressing my face against her back as my arms circle her waist.

“Please, tell me.”

I plead as tears escape my eyes.

I let go after a few moments, wiping away the water on my face.

I brush my fingers over her back, tracing the marks deep in thought, hoping to recieve some type of reaction.

A gasp.

A wince.

Anything.

An idea pops in my brain unexpectedly.

I move her long locs of hair to the side and start to kiss every place where her skin is split.

I’ve found that kisses help her calm down. Maybe this will help wake her up.

As my lips meet her skin, the scars close slightly.

I start at the top of her back and make my way down slowly, kissing reverently along her body.

I get on my knees to reach lower scars.

She’s so strong.

Another light clicks in the distance.

I swing my head toward the noise, the sound sudden and disturbing.

A queen size bed is illuminated.

My eyes return to Elisha who remains on the stool unmoved.

I move in front of her.

I see a face dreaded with exhaustion. Her soft features remain but are tainted by her lack of consciousness.

Elisha’s eyes are open, never blinking as she continues to stare at the floor.

I analyze her further to see if there are any more slits in her flesh.

Her front is free of scars, the smooth skin moisturized and unburdened.

I notice the outline of her biceps and how her collarbone is still defined.

I sigh in relief, I can still recognized the girl I fell in love with.

I take my arms and wrap them under her knees and support her back.

I cradle her close to my chest.

Her eyes flutter to a close as i lift her, her posture finally softens as she stirs but doesn’t quite wake.

Elisha’s body is limp in my arms, her once tense muscles relaxing.

I move carefully toward the mattress.

I pull away the burgundy blanket and white sheets to place her ever so gently onto the bed.

I frown as her body stiffens again.

I walk around to the other side of the bed and her stirs become more prominent.

A small whimper escapes her before her eyes slowly open, her head turning side to side, taking in her surroundings.

“Holy shit!” She exclaims.

Woah.

I’ve never heard her curse before.

“Oh my God, oh my God.” She repeats, her chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly.

She sits up swiftly as adrenaline courses through her veins.

She pulls her knees to her chest and pushes her back against the head board. Her arms wrapping around her upper body protectively.

I snap out of my trance.

I’m just watching her like an idiot.

I quickly climb onto the bed and pull her in tightly.

She flinches at the contact, looking at me with a panicked expression.

“Hey, shhhhh. It’s ok, it’s ok.” I whisper, careful not to add on to her panic.

“Jas?”

She pulls my arms away to look at my face.

“Jasper?”

“Hi, yeah it’s just me. You’re okay.” I grab her arms that are covering herself protectively.

I start to take her hands in mine but she shakes her head and returns to her protective posture.

“What’s going on?” Her voice higher and more softer than usual.

I grab the burgundy blanket beneath us and place it over her exposed body.

“Better?” I ask.

Her beautiful brown eyes meet mine. And she takes a deep breath.

“Yes.” She states simply.

I don’t have the answers to her questions.

I’m just as confused myself.

“Where are my clothes?” She asks with a shaky voice that breaks my heart to hear.

Her hands tremble slightly but not because it’s cold.

She’s terrified.

Her eyes only lingering to search my face before scanning her location through clearer eyes.

“Come here, sweetheart.” My tone light as I pull her in again.

She’s not very fond of cuddling.

She says she can’t relax and she would rather hold me instead. But I don’t let that stop me from occasionally trying to flip the narrative.

Although this time she doesn’t object, I imagine her body is too frightened to think about past preferences.

I hold her head against my chest, one arm around her shoulders as I kiss the top of her head.

Her long locs are in a half up, half down style. Slightly covering the new damage that emerges on her at a rapid pace.

New wounds appear on the skin that was once clean.

Small ones.

Big ones.

Swollen ones.

Ones that bleed just enough to glisten.

Every scratch varies in size and newness.

Except they all look,

Angry.

My heart seethes at the sight of her battered skin.

My sweet girl doesn’t seem to notice yet, too busy trying to timidly accept my embrace.

I try not to let evidence of my startle show anywhere but my head. I hold her tighter against me, like it’s actually possible.

She notices the change in my demeanor right away and pulls back to examine me.

“What’s wrong?” She asks naively.

Good, the scars don’t seem to hurt her.

But we are so far away from reality.

Her eyes flicker toward her skin. And she looks back up at me puzzled.

“What?”

“You don’t see those?”

“See what Jas?, you’re scaring me.”

Her arms leave her chest as she pulls the blanket higher around herself.

I grab her hands gently.

I refuse to let her hide anymore.

I begin to remove the blanket.